


Past and Future

by Penstrokes, TerminallyTyranical



Category: SSF, Super Science Friends
Genre: 2099 compliant, Facility AU, First Super Science Friends Long Fic, Gen, tags to be added as time goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes/pseuds/Penstrokes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallyTyranical/pseuds/TerminallyTyranical
Summary: A lost child escapes the only world he's ever known in a bid for freedom, to live a life not contained by walls and roles.  Clinging to the first person he sees that he learns to recognize, he gains a name and a semblance of family.When the Super Science Friends investigate several abnormalities in the space time continuum, they make the same discovery that Edison has.It's a child clone of one of their members, Tesla. Taking custody, they learn more about the clone, Tod, and world he's escaped from. One that's much closer to the world they know than they would have expected.





	1. Uncertain Steps

**Author's Note:**

> First collab fic, first SSF fic. An Au that grew out of a sub Au for the Age Swap idea. It's grown into this massive thing and can't wait to share it with you all. 
> 
> Special thanks to my friends who helped me made this AU, especially you. You know who you are. (the mod off ssf headcannons I believe)

The child slipped away from the machine. He had, by some miracle, actually done it. He was out and free from the clutches of the facility. He didn't know what to do with this freedom. The 'sky' was 'blue'. He'd never seen 'blue' before on something so big and vast. For him,color existed in finite swabs of surfaces, color had meaning.

  
It didn't seem real. It was just too big. Where did it end? It had to end somewhere.

  
Quietly dodging and keeping his wits about him, he made it through the throngs of people on the street. Every step, every moment of this freedom brought unto it a building anxiety.

  
Where was he going? What would he do? Questions that never meant anything before quietly blossomed in the back of his mind as they, for the first time, had reason and purpose behind them.

 

The adrenaline of knowing he was doing something forbidden ran through his veins, powering him forward. Going down one street, up another and across another few, time and people rushed past him in a steady flurry. There were so many people, more than he’d ever seen before in his life. It was astonishing how different they looked compared to one another. He could never have imagined that a person could look so many different ways. The buildings caught his eyes, drew him towards them. He was no stranger to buildings and offices, his world had been nothing but rooms, corridors and hallways. The sights of objects and instruments he’d had a hunch about what they were for and those he’d never seen nor could guess their function drove him almost as wild as the armada of smells that hung in the air, the overwhelming torrent of unusual sound. All these new experiences were starting to be too much for the boy.

 

The smell of machines, of food and to a certain extent other people reminded him of the basement. Things were far more dull back there, much more calm. It was also far more suffocating. The faces of his class members, eyes and faces that were always identical to his flashed before his mind’s eye. 

 

The thought of his former home snapped him out of his thoughts, of reveling in this new world.

 

Thoughts of home reminded him of danger. He wasn’t safe out here, not when it was only a matter of time until the Facility remembered he existed, when the daily attendance count was set out the next morning. With neither his presence nor his disposal were recorded or accounted for, they would start hunting for him.

 

Guilt.

He was the first of his class to ever escape, to ever _contemplate_ escape. Given their shorter lifespans, the incentives generally were not worth the risks of punishment that they’d undergo should they be caught. The looks of confusion, skepticism, fear, envy and awe had spread across their faces when he’d whispered his plan among his fellow brothers in the basement. He’d extended the invitation to escape with him, into the big, wide unknown. In the end maybe they were smarter to play it safe and stay back home.

 

The adrenaline wore off, leaving him tired. His feet hurt from walking so much, so many steps to nowhere in particular. How could he have a place in mind? The sky seemed darker now, there was still light but the streets seemed different now. People were going elsewhere, they seemed more tired now. The expectant, energetic atmosphere that was present earlier was replaced with a more restrained murmur.

 

The idyllic,wandering, contemplating  thoughts were replaced with a new sense of urgency. He had to find shelter, something to eat. The dark posed no threat to him, not when he could generate his own light, his own electricity. He couldn’t eat that and he couldn’t keep himself very warm with it. Maybe he could find someone who would want it or need it.

 

Markings covered the buildings and signs, ones he couldn’t understand. If they were numbers, that he’d understand. As the sky grew darker and the tall light poles came on, the boy began to feel more anxious. He had to make more progress, he just did. There was a recurring face that he’d seen more than once now. It was of a man wearing a bowtie.

 

Was he important?

 

He hoped so.

  
  


Thomas Edison was finally returning home after a long day of business deals and big dollar decisions. There had been more losses than he’d like to admit but he had confidence that he’d bounce back. It wasn’t his first rodeo and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. Entering the park, he gazed upon his influence, his work. A sense of pride could be felt in every building, every good will service he’d enacted to better the lives of the people who lived nearby. The citizens were starting to turn in for the night, the orphans running back to eat dinner.

 

The crisp evening air filled his lungs as the cool breeze graced his skin. It was time for a well deserved rest, a warm meal and he could read-

 

-a sharp tug on his leg brought everything to a halt. Looking down, he saw a small child, around age seven if he had to guess. The poor boy gazed up at him, tears streaking down his face, clutching his leg.

 

“Um, hello, child?” He asked tentatively. He had to be a local, but where was his parents? Tom couldn’t remember if he’d seen this child before at the orphanage.

 

“Where are your parents?” He tried giving a reassuring smile at the boy. Those bright blue eyes and that floppy, dark brown hair seemed familiar. He ran through the faces he’d run into recently, if he knew why he seemed familiar.

 

The boy simply shook his head, clutching his leg tighter. Starting to feel off put by this strange behavior, he glanced around. He would simply drop the kid off as the Orphanage and have them report him missing in the morning to the newspaper or the police.

 

“No parents, hm? Well, you know where you’d find someplace warm to stay? There’s an orphanage right over there. They’ll take you in. Shall we go?” He asked, bending down and offering a hand. Silently, he hoped he would take it. He had few options aside from that.

 

He recoiled instead, his grip on his leg as tight as ever. “No!” He yelped, drawing the attention of a few passerbys.

 

“Please. I...I don’t have any place to go.” He whimpered, blanking away more fat, wet tears.

 

The people from before hadn’t left, in fact they were watching, curious as to what he’d do. Feeling trapped, his smile returned, more weary and stressed this time.

 

“Now, tell me, why don’t you want to go to the orphanage? It’s a very nice place. Warm beds, good food. There’s no need to be afraid, I founded it. I can attest for it’s high qualities.”  He cooed, putting on his best business man pitch.

 

“Please! I-I-I don’t want to go. Don’t make me go!” The child was wailing now, causing everyone within hearing distance to peer over. The boy was really putting him on the spot and uncomfortably so. Swallowing hard to fight back the growing sense of dread in his stomach, Thomas realized he had nothing left but to do things the hard way.

 

Doing his best to waddle over to the orphanage, ignoring both the stares that were drilling into his back and the nagging question about his reputation, the shrieking and sobbing grew louder. Eventually, he was forced to stop.

 

He was just too heavy to continue like this, too much gossip risk.

 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t send me there.” Came a wavering whimper from beneath him.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

The man leaned over, squinting at the kid, scrambling for what choices he could possibly have left. Another option slowly popped into his mind. He liked kids, didn’t hate them. If he let the kid stay over at his house, a spare bedroom, he could use this to ward off accusations of tonight’s mishap. Use it to show that he was a good man who cared.

 

Yes. That’s what he would do.

 

He would allow the child to stay the night and send him to the orphanage in the morning. He could do it early in the morning when there were bound to be less eyes and less mouths.

 

“How would you like to stay with me? Just for tonight.”

 


	2. Important Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First co-written chapter and the longest single chapter i"ve ever written/cowritten at 14 pages  
> should tide ya'll over until the next update. Also some continuity errors were changed from chapter 1

The residential building the man took him to- or a house, as he found out soon after- was so much more silent than the boy had anticipated. He wondered if the outside was always this contradictory. It was so noisy in the daytime, but at night it was almost uncomfortably quiet. There was no constant, comforting hum or crackle of electricity in the background from the others. No murmur, no hushed conversation between similar voices, no shuffling of people moving between beds. Even the air smelled different. Gone was the strong, comforting scent of electricity and metal in the air, the mini thunderstorms that were always brewing.

Just the silence of night and the lonely hum of his own body. The faint glow coming off of him both worried and comforted him. He knew Teslas glowed in the dark but did other people? 

During the day it was invisible, it was simply too bright to be seen. He’d heard of it happening from other Teslas who had bothered to venture beyond the basements. He, himself, in his brief travels ‘up above’, had seen the phenomenon of his own light vanishing, bathed in the electric lights they provided to the facility. But here, it felt unneeded. He felt unneeded, and that kind of scared him. He knew it was fine in his head, but every time the young boy's mind began to drift, that thought popped back into his head. The fear of being a burden, being unnecessary,  _ being found out. _ Were minutes ever this long? Tesla never really remembered them being so strenuous. 

Everyone had a purpose, he and his friends certainly knew what theirs were. It’d been a fact of life, of their limited world for so long that he wasn’t sure he was ready to divorce himself from it just yet. Certainly, the same held true here, right? 

He rolled over, clutching the blankets over himself.

Could he really pretend he knew what the Outside was like when he’d been here for less than a ‘day’? Did he really want everyone to have a purpose, but just to assign a different purpose for himself? Tesla had never thought he’d get this far outside of his own daydreams and imagination. 

He tried to sleep, really he did. Every attempt was plagued by apprehension. What was that creaking he just heard? 

A footstep? From whom? 

From Home? Had they managed to find him already? 

He found himself sitting up, fingers twitching with worry. He wanted...needed something to keep them occupied, to make his mind not think about what would happen when….if they did. 

If

He had to hope that they wouldn’t find him because the alternative was just as bad as never having left. The long, mostly dull hours working the generators could get on one’s nerves. Boredom dug its nails deep into their brains, their very souls. They could fight back by constructing and drawing up new designs, improvements. Alas, this high of adding something meaningful to their existence could only allay the mind-numbing truth of their reality. 

That was just their normal, daily lives.

That was all that was expected of them, for them. 

He had most certainly broken them by daring to step outside of not only his allotted range of the Facility but going Outside. No Tesla had ever been allowed to go there. It was simply too dangerous and Teslas had no business being out there. 

There were to be repercussions, and while generally unheard of for a Tesla to be on the receiving end of one, it did still happen. 

Taking refuge under the covers, he tried to push the thought out of his head. His faint glow illuminating the space (or really lack thereof) he attempted to find security under. The images of dark rooms and unfamiliar voices burned as brightly as the light of his friends. It was harder to breathe, a lot harder to think clearly. Hiding under a layer of fabric won’t stop them from finding you. Hiding, All he was doing was hiding. 

Popping out from underneath the blanket, Tesla drew a deep breath. Expecting something to pop out from the shadows, whisk him away in the night. The only response he got was the light flutter of drawn curtains. He could make out the faint light of the sun. Too faint to illuminate the world once more, but enough that even he knew that night would be drawing to a close in the next few hours. 

It was only when his glance shifted, that he noticed the white of his knuckles from gripping the edge of the bed so hard. If he were any stronger, a part of him thought he would have torn the mattress apart. 

   Tesla stared at the floor, his eyes shifting from the early morning's sun, then back to the ground. Was the big man running late? Surely he would have arrived by now, given orders, started the day. There was something almost upsetting about waiting for so long when his normal schedule should have started by now. Didn’t they have things to do? All the busy people from yesterday made him think they all did. It was an alienating feeling. Time inched by strangely outside. Tesla couldn’t help but ponder the location of his newfound, well, he wasn’t sure what to call him. 

 Scooting off the bed, Tesla’s bare feet met with the cold wooden flooring. Shivering in response, he waited. Nothing. Standing up, nothing. The quiet patter of his feet, against the polished wood, as he made his way towards the door making Tesla feel a little on edge. Every ‘what if’ situation racing through his mind. What if the big man could hear him, would he be mad? Become dangerous? He didn’t seem dangerous. But a lot of things didn’t seem dangerous.

You left the facility you can do anything

A deep breath

You left the facility you can do anything...

Hand on the doorknob

Do anything 

A light brush of air flowed out of the room, as the boy hastily swung the door open. The only noise to fill the silence, being the steady ticking of the large grandfather clock the boy had observed on arrival. He didn’t really get it. It was supposed to tell time, but there were only a few numbers, not nearly enough for all the minutes and seconds that came with time. Little hand on six, Tesla couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the number. Six what? Either way, it was wasting daylight. 

As he quietly padded around the house he noticed there were the occasional frames on the walls, various pictures. They were all static, unlit. They seemed to be images of places he’d never seen. Perhaps these were vital locations that were of importance. He made a note to commit them to memory in case they came up later. 

There were also images of the man scattered across the residence. Him in various settings, with various people. There was one man who stood out the most, who seemed to be pictured with him. Numbers written neatly in the corners of the images leaving Tesla a little confused. He racked his brain for a possible explanation but ultimately came up with none that satisfied him.

Unlike the man, he did not wear the strange cloth around his neck that looked almost like the infinity symbol, not like the man he was taking refuge with. He was thinner, a little younger looking. They seemed to be smiling more than once together. They were standing next to something he can more easily recognize, a vehicle if he had to guess. The sight of some technology, no matter how primitive made him relax if only the slightest bit. 

This did bring up another aspect that had been on his mind lately, more so now that he’d started to explore the house. Where was the technology? There were no signs of computers, not even in their most rudimentary form. There had been lights outside the house just the night before, he had seen them lighting the hallways before he’d gone to bed as well. Certainly, that couldn’t be all this time period had.  The Tesla was aware that there had to be a time before all the fancy tools he was familiar with existed and yet...it seemed so wrong for them not to exist. 

Just how far back did he go? He supposed that the farther back he was, the safer he’d be. He’d mull it over when he got the chance, but for now, he’d look around and try to glean what he could. 

He continued to wander, this time coming across more closed doors. He’d begun to lose track of where he’d come from but some feeling told him he wasn’t facing North. Instead, he was slightly to the ‘right’ of it. 

      Tod saw a lot of new things with each door he opened, passing by detailed images of young women, that weren’t photographs, but still looked real. He wasn’t sure how much time he really spent staring at them, as the images baffled him immensely. They smiled at him, sitting outside in various settings. They seemed to be having an awfully good time, carefree and unbothered with the world. 

Having tapped a few of the images, they had a strange bumpy texture to them. Layers of something sitting on top of the images. Or the images were sitting on something underneath? Was that the screen? Under all this pretty goop? It didn’t make sense either way. 

Why would someone put colored goop on top of a perfectly good screen? Why would the screen be all bumpy like that? Tod didn’t get the point of it.

It was about 7 when the faint creak of a door met the boy's ears. Panic striking his chest, Tesla turned around to explore his options. For a second he forgot north even existed. That’s when he heard another door open, his door. 

“I can explain!” The young boy sputtered, nearly tripping over himself as he hurriedly turned to face whoever was now in the room with him. A faint glow of panic emitting from his skin.

Edison blinked, a tired look of suspicion streaking past his demeanor. “You weren’t in your room this morning.” He yawned, swiping loose strands of silver grey hair from his face. Only then noticing the faint light the boy seemed to emit. He really was tired. 

“Thought you took off,” he added. Straightening out his clothes to make himself a smidgen more presentable to the boy. 

Tod was, more or less confused by the man’s wording. “What would I be taking off?”He asked, baffled.

Looking down at his person, there didn’t really seem to be much he could take off. 

Edison let out a weak laugh, before correcting himself. “I mean run away,” 

“Oh”

Tod looked out the window, the sun was now much more apparent than he’d ever seen it. It was so bright, comfortably so. The sun’s presence was strangely calming. “Why didn’t you just say ‘run away’ first?”

Edison returned the question with a tired shrug. “It’s only a saying,” 

“A saying?” 

“How about we discuss it over some breakfast? I believe some food would do both of us some good.” Edison suggested, motioning for them to leave the room together. 

It took a minute for Tod to realize how hungry he really was, he’d skipped half a days worth of meals. 

With the man leading the way down to the dining area, Tod furiously did his best to commit it all to memory. It was a small dining area, although Tod supposed this man was not in need of feeding thousands of people in any capacity. Just himself, perhaps a few others even. He’d never eaten somewhere so remote, so..alone. There had always been people, around a thousand of them during their allotted feeding periods. 

“I hope your stay during the night was comfortable enough?” Edison inquired, shuffling about, preparing for another day. 

One with a guest he hadn’t been planning on entertaining. There was still the plan with what to do with this strange kid from last night. It was straightforward, simple. 

Feed the kid. Get some information about him and leave. 

He’d faced tougher challenges. 

“It...it was.” The boy answered, hesitating as he chose his words carefully. He watched from the corner of his vision how the child’s eyes seemed to scan around the room. Eyes lingering on one object before traveling to another. Almost as if he’d never seen them before, all of it new. 

Turning away, he continued on. 

“You must be far from home, with your accent and all. It’s not from around here, is it?” He began, casually. 

“Um….yes.” He answered after almost spitting out a different answer. Several different answers if the different words he’d tried to get out but stopped was any indication. 

“New York is an odd place for a child like you to be running around by yourself.” He pointed out, opting to make something simple for the two of them. 

New York, so that’s what they called outside? A bit of an anticlimactic name. He wondered then, where was Old York? There had to be if there was a ‘New York.’ 

“Children run around by themselves all the time where I’m from.” He informed the man, hoping that’d be enough to settle his sudden onslaught of questions. Edison returned the remark with another faint glance of suspicion.

Pulling out a chair from underneath the dining table, he furthered the conversation. “And where might you be from exactly?” 

The boy was trapped. He’d never really lied before, but he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to be returned to face whatever consequences came with his brash decision of leaving. He began to wrack his brain for a substitution. He had to have remembered some name, some location he could answer with. 

“...Old...York.” 

“You’re from Old York?”

“Yes,” Tod shot back eagerly. His heart skipping beats, he was actually getting away with it. There was a giddiness that filled him, one that almost felt like he could fly. 

“So England, then. I should have figured, with your accent.” Edison noted as he moved about. 

The loud clatter of chinaware, as Edison pulled out plates made the young boy jump from his thoughts and back into reality. A faint little cackle emitting from his mixture of surprise and panic. Having been too focused on the words he was saying to really notice the smell of freshly cooked eggs or the steam that drifted from the pan. He leaned forward on the table to catch a glimpse of the man’s actions. Nobody back “home” had time to do things like that. Opening his mouth to say something, he stopped. Not wanting to let go of his cover, he instead returned to adjusting himself back into the wooden chair properly. He found it impossible to look away, mesmerized as the food cooked right there in front of him. He knew it was simple science, the basic chemical reactions of the proteins and heat. In that moment though, it might as well as have been magic to him. 

Edison couldn’t help but watch how the kid’s eyes were glued to the pan as if he’d never seen food being cooked before. Maybe he was one of those rich kids who had a maid to cook for him, or maybe he was just very interested in food. 

There was a third scenario that hung in the back of Edison’s mind. Although he’d try and commit himself to the more reasonable explanations there was one, more far-fetched than the other two that lingered in the back of his mind. 

What if he’d never seen food cooked before?

It was an absolutely preposterous idea, of course, he had to have seen it before at one point or another.  He had to have known how to cook at least a little, even at that young an age. 

“How many pancakes would you like?” Edison asked, deciding to break the silence, which was starting to grow heavy with uneasiness, mostly from the intent stares the kid was giving.

“Pancake?” He repeated slowly, testing out the word. He seemed to ponder it, deep in through. With eyebrows furrowed, he was tempted to ask what exactly a pancake was. Looking back up from the pan towards Edison, he held back. Was a pancake common on the outside? If so it’d be suspicious to ask, but still. The pure curiosity of it all killed him a little. 

“One please,” Tod finally answered. 

Breakfast was served and the two were settled at the dining table. 

Alone.

He didn’t like that word. 

The boy opted to stare at the food. Poking the pancake with his fork, he hesitated before putting it in his mouth. The pancake was fluffy and ….and….

He couldn't describe it. Food back ‘home’ wasn’t particularly varied or appetizing but food was food. This though, it did weird things. A strange wave of emotions washed through Tod, as he looked up at Edison. 

“It’s really good,” he managed to say in between mouthfuls. He couldn’t describe it, the taste was so bizarre, foreign. Something more akin to Mendel's failed lab experiment than actual subsistence. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of meals he’d missed or if it was because it was just that amazing. He and his kin were not required to eat on the go, to eat fast. They were allowed to take their time. Most just chose not to. 

“I’m pleased to know that my cooking is up to your standards.” Edison responded in kind, making a mental note that the boy liked pancakes. After having some coffee, he finally felt more awake and alert. He hoped that the boy would be more open to answering questions now, especially since he was more rested and fed.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name the other day,” Edison asked.

Tod shifted uncomfortably in his seat, in between mouthfuls of pancake trying to think of the proper response. Yes, a name. He’d have to give one. Somehow he doubted that his original name would have been ‘acceptable’. No, it certainly wouldn’t. He didn’t exactly have an idea of what would be ‘acceptable’ out here, however running through what protocols he did know, he managed to assemble something.  He was a Tesla so it only made sense that his new ‘name’ would start with a T.

Setting down his fork, he responded obediently and submissively, as was expected of him.

“T-0-d sir.” He soon returned to his plate, having given his new code.

“...So, Tod? You didn’t need to spell it out.” Edison replied back, his lips pursed at the interesting response he’d received. 

“Yes, Tod.” The young clone affirmed, a part of him too distracted by the food to ponder or ask about why they’d mush code together like that. Everything here was upside down anyways. 

Tod decided it was best not to bring it up. 

Stuffing another fork full in his mouth, he could feel his stomach churn a strange pain he’d never really felt before becoming more apparent. Did the big man poison his ‘pancake’? Was he working with the facility this whole time? It would make too much sense. As the possibility of his success slowly began to slip away, a strike of panic rushed through the boy. A small spark of blue arose from his chair. 

Edison blinked, a look of disbelief crossed his face for a split second.

Did he-? The elder man stifled a chuckle.  _ I must not be as awake as I thought I was. _ Twirling his fork, he attempted to further the conversation. 

“Well then Tod, do your parents live in Old York still, are they here for a visit?” 

The boy straightened in his chair. 

The Facility? Here? His breathing became increasingly more uneven as he tried to gather scrambled thoughts about his ‘parents.’ 

“They’re here?” Tod squeaked, saucer-wide eyes darting towards the windows. 

The kids wording really did concern the man. But then again, Edison was never really a ‘kids’ person. The most he’d ever done was hang around the orphanage every once in a while. This kid though, he wasn’t exactly the same thing. He could report the runaway to the authorities, but the answers ‘Tod’ gave weren’t very straightforward. 

“Do you know where your parents are, Tod?” Edison asked, finally getting to the question that most interested him. 

“I don’t want to.” Came a reply, somewhere between hesitant and determined. The message was firm and steady like he’d made up his mind before then. Hesitant as if he feared something. 

Tod seemed to observe him as much as he did, only to look away as soon as their eyes met. Furrowing his brows, Edison realized he’d needed to take a different approach. Simply passing off these answers he was giving was not truly getting them anywhere. Things were adding up and yet they weren’t. Between the answers that he supposed he could believe and the slightly odd way of how he gave them, there was more to the story that he wasn’t telling.

“Tell me about your parents. Your family, anything to help me help you. Are they nice to you?” Edison continued with this line of questioning. He was firm but polite about it, he was going to get some answers out of this kid but he wasn’t going to say anything that ‘Tod’ could use if this was somehow an elaborate scheme to smear his name. Edison had had his fair share of enemies in both the public and private eye but this would be a new method of libel. 

Tod seemed to fiddle with his fork almost anxiously, making a face as he delved into thought. 

A touchy subject or was he being put on the spot?

“My….My parents?” Tod repeated, entirely unsure. If he was acting, he was damn good at it. Those lighting blue eyes were wide in confusion, looking at Edison as if his face held an answer.

“Yes, Parents. The people who care for you.” Edison repeated, hiding the impatience in his voice. “You must know something about your parents, it is a very long way from Old York, after all.”

Tod deeply pondered how to answer this new question. Were ‘parents’ another word for Manager? Superior? T0d wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a manager in person before, of ever, as a matter of fact. At most he’d seen the usual groups of overseers and guards, both of which belonged to the same class and ranged in age from younger than Teslas to slightly older than Teslas. 

 

“We’ve never seen them. They don’t talk to us, they send messengers if we get in trouble. The messengers don’t stay long, they have other places to be.” T0d explained to best of his knowledge. 

Edison furrowed his brows taking in this new information. Absent parents and indirect communication. Either Tod’s parents were rich enough to afford such a thing, possibly a maid of some sort to raise kids could be an explanation. The implication that he’s never seen his parents stumped him. 

“Who’s raising you and your siblings?” He continued, looking for more pieces of this peculiar puzzle. It made no sense for the parents to just leave them by themselves for such a long period of time. Perhaps they were working overseas for a long, long time and Tod had come to find them? 

That explanation still felt wrong.

“We do, sir. We raise each other.” Tod wondered who else was supposed to be doing those tasks. The Managers couldn’t do that, they had far too much important work to do than tend to all of them individually. His kind in particular. The churning in his stomach was starting to worsen, a dull stabbing pain arose in his stomach. He did his best to appear normal.

“How many siblings do you have?” Another question that seemed to easy to answer and yet, was it another trap? Tod didn’t know the exact numbers of his brethren, a Jung would know but alas he was not a Jung. 

A Jung would not attempt to escape, why would they? 

“Many.” He left it at that, hoping that it would satisfy the questions.

“How old are you?” Yet another question, there was certainly a lot of them. With how his stomach was acting up, he hoped they would end soon. 

“How….old?” An odd question that...honestly, Tod was unsure of how to answer. They didn’t keep track of age, not for them. “I don’t know.” 

The pain in his stomach was getting worse, a more angry stabbing, throbbing pain had taken residence in him. He quickly put down his fork, his hands disappearing beneath the table to his troubled midsection.

“Tod, do you feel safe at home?” Edison asked, folding his hands together. 

Tod barely heard the question, the pain forcing him to finally double over at the table. His knees pressed into his midsection as if the pressure could push the pain back, away to where it came. 

Understandably, this caused Mr. Edison to panic.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The basement was filled with the audible hum and crackle of the electricity in the sector next to theirs. The workers ought to be finishing their shifts around the same time he finished with his role call and set his batch of workers under him. There were anxious murmurs before him. but of course, there were. These were Tesla's after all. That was their nature, to be timid, to keep their heads down and to do their jobs. It was easier for everyone this way and functioning as a group with as little disruptions was the best outcome any of them could ask for. 

Their survival, as well as humanity’s, depended on it. 

2-J-763-0 stood before his section of the basement Teslas. With his record tablet, he did his daily attendance call.

"9770?" He called out, staring into the crowd of same faces. 

"Present." Came a hollow reply from the boy closest to him. His eyes were red and he didn't have to guess as to the reason. He knew why he would cry, but they should be used to it, being what they were. 

'Id: 9770. Status: 1 [active]'

He continued along, paying him no mind. 

"9771." 

"Present." A voice wavered nearby, another boy leaning up against 9770.

Making a simple grunt of acknowledgment, he made another record.

'Id:9771. Status: 1 [active]'

"9772?" 

Silence, broken by sobs was his only response.

Clearing his throat, he asked again.

"9772?" He inquired again, more firmly this time.

"Present." The voice was barely audible, despite the boy in question standing in front of him.

"Is there a reason you three are less livelier today than you usually are?" 763 asked, not because he cared but because he both needed to record and to humor them. He found the Teslas worked better if you at least tried to care about whatever it was that went on down in the basements. 

“773...is dead.” Cried out 9772, sobbing harder once he’d revealed the name of his fallen co-worker and brother. Sounds of condolences rose from around the trio, some of the boys putting their heads down, as to mourn the passing of another of their brood.

763 simply nodded, marking down this turn of events on his roster sheet.  763 never understood why the Teslas insisted on dropping the first number of their name when referring to themselves. They were one of the more numerous classes, being one of the only ones with numbers in the thousands, at one point at least. The smell of the ionized air was getting to him. He hated being down here.  

‘ID: 9773. Status: 2 [Deceased].’ 

“Oh, that’s right. You three were friends with 9773, weren’t you?” He commented passively, observing them. It was almost funny, in a sad way, how often Teslas cried over death. There were at least half a dozen- half a dozen of them passing every other week. An inexperienced clone- Jung or otherwise- might have been swayed to cry with them. After the first dozen times, it simply became a fact of life to everyone else. 

The Teslas still wept for their fallen siblings. 

“That’s a shame, I suppose he was nice.” Was the last thing the overseer said on the matter before he continued on. 

…….

He droned through the ID numbers, recording new deaths and making a note of how many replacements had to be sent in for the next few days. 

“9802?”  

There was no answer, only apprehensive looks and a swath of deadly silence came from the group he was addressing. 

Clearing his throat, he called out again. 

“9802? Can anyone attest to 9802’s status?” 763 tapped his tablet in annoyance. He was well aware that the Teslas didn’t have nearly as much of an important schedule to keep as the other classes did, but they could in the very least be courteous about everyone else’s work. 

Another minute crawled by, drawing the growing ire of the overseer in charge.

“I understand that you don’t like work but this doesn’t mean you should be keeping me from mine. Now, can anyone tell me if 9802 is dead or alive? I will write you all up for being so stubborn.” He snapped, tapping his foot to keep himself from throwing his tablet at them. It was an easy question, why couldn’t they just-

“We don’t know.” Came a voice from somewhere within the space 9802 should have been. At least, that’s what 763 guessed he ought to have been. 

“Ex-excuse me? What do you mean you ‘don’t know?’ That’s part of your duty, we can’t have someone down here personally check each and every one of you, that’s the only other part of your job down here and you’re telling me you can’t do that right?” 763 could feel himself starting to yell, despite his best efforts.

Unaccounted for? He could only hope that they were joking. Even 763 knew or at least had an inkling of what the could happen if one of them vanished. Panic crept up on him, breathing down his neck.  He’d never messed up before, never this badly. He was in charge of this sector, even if another Jung had messed up, he’d be the one who’d have to ultimately answer to the managers.

“Isn’t part of your job to check every one of us? Isn’t that what you’re-?” Inquired a particularly curious voice. 

“You know what I mean.” 763 snapped, tossing his tablet on the ground. Thankfully it didn’t actually break. They were made to be extremely durable, they had to be, being handled by people of all different power backgrounds. 

763 was reluctant to pick his tablet back up, but he must. He thought, hoped that if he ignored it long enough, that he glared at the Tesla crowd hard enough that 9802 would pop back up into existence. He could….he could come back to 9802, maybe blame the Teslas and buy himself more time. 

He could...lie. He could claim that 9802 had died, but if he’d popped back up again later? 

Lying to a manager about the whereabouts of a clone was something dismissal worthy at worst and at best earned one a trip to the Freuds. 

As much as he wanted time to stop and stay stopped, he could feel it slowly ticking by him. He had to fix this problem soon, he had to fix it now. 

“Come on, you guys have to know where one of your own is, can’t you? Did he...did he burn out? Is he out of the basement on ‘break’?” He asked once again, all the fury and haughtiness was gone, leaving only a weak and desperate side of him. 

He could almost see pity on their faces, worry. 

A burning indignation, of shame at himself for falling so low, ignited in his stomach. What was he doing? 

….

What was he doing indeed.

‘ID: 9802, Status:-’

His finger hovered over the drop down menu hesitantly.

‘Status: 0 [Unaccounted for].’

  
  



	3. ...and now what?

To say that Edison almost had a heart attack when Tod suddenly slumped over on the other side of his dining table was an understatement. The sudden groans of pain emitting from the boy, the streak of solid lines of goosebumps across his then pale skin. He was only comforted by the prospect that he hadn’t somehow killed the boy by his pained whimpers from across the room. Without another moments notice, he hurriedly attempted to tend to his aching guest.

“What’s wrong? One minute you’re fine and eating, suddenly you’re hunched over acting like you’re going to die.” Edison asked, trying to keep his voice even.

His eyes constantly exchanging glances between the boy and the table. Searching for vomit, blood, something the kid could’ve coughed up. Even if he was unnerved by the event he couldn’t let the kid know how he felt. They didn’t both need to be getting worked up.

“There’s something wrong with my stomach. It really hurts.” Tod groaned, a strange mix of confusion, and panic lacing his tongue. “What-what’s wrong with me?” With one hand clenching his aching stomach, he shot up a look at Edison. One eye shut tight as he tried to gather his thoughts through this unwelcome foreign feeling.

Edison let out a sigh of half-relief. Tod wasn’t coughing up anything _yet._ He would bet anything that it was simply indigestion, given how fast he wolfed down his breakfast. Although there was something strange about his wording, almost as if he’d never had a stomach ache before. Surely the kid’s been sick. The flu, stomach-pox, it was just very… alienating.

“It’s fine,” Edison assured, his eyes locked with Tods. The kid looked so vulnerable it was almost uncomfortable. “It’s only a stomach ache. You acted like you were starving earlier with that pancake. I’ll help you to your room and you can lay down.” Edison wrapped his arms around Tod wary of the probability of Tod coughing up something onto his chest, and carried him back to his room. Tod buried his face in his chest, uneven breaths as the jostling probably made the pain worse. It would be faster this way.

As the man laid Tod on the bed, he couldn’t help but take notice of the odd black jacket that had been pushed to the floor during the previous night. He could make out some odd light blue symbols etched into the strange material that seemed to have a softly pulsating glow. Interested piqued, he made a mental note to ask Tod about it later, after his stomach ache went away.

“I’m going to get you some medicine for that stomach of yours. Just stay here and if you need to use the bathroom, it’s right over here.” Edison explained, motioning to the other door attached to the guest room he was currently staying in.

Stepping out of the room, he let out a heavy sigh.

_What had he gotten himself into?_

He wasn’t just talking about the stomach ache, but that kid. He was actually a little for worried him. Edison considered locking the door, just to be on the safe side.

For _his_ safety?

On the off chance that he was faking this and planning on stealing from him. Edison hadn’t entirely dismissed the possibility. Regardless the click of the door lock would’ve been a dead giveaway, what if that made it worse?

The men left the door unlocked, and just hoped.

He wasn’t very fond of hoping.

After a quick change of clothes, or as quick as changing into a suit could be Edison headed out. _There was another place he wanted to stop by._

* * *

 

Henry Ford was an innovative young man, one that Edison thought of as a kindred spirit. A clever self starter, persistent and stubborn. They weren’t what one would think of as likely friends, Edison was sixteen years his senior. When Ford was making his start, Edison was already highly established and making waves. Former employer and employee, there was always a tangible sense of difference between them. Yet, Tom never felt this difference as a hindrance.

A brisk walk took him to Ford’s house. If there was someone he’d wanted to talk about such strange and personal going ons, there was no one else he’d want to talk to other than him.

Tom broke out into a controlled but genuine smile when his friend opened the door. Still in his night clothes and heavily disheveled, Henry’s eyes were questioning. It wasn’t odd for Edison to be up early, but to be here so early was an entirely different matter.

“Tommy, morning. It’s early, something the matter?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Hello, Henry. Would you like to go for a walk with me? It’s a nice day and there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Tom smiled back at him, hoping to coax him into going with him. “You see, I’ve picked up a guest last night and he’s very….peculiar.” He concluded, after thinking of an accurate word to describe him.

“Peculiar, you say? Where is he now?” Henry asked, inviting Edison into his house. His eyes shifting to the outside, assuming this ‘peculiar’ character was out with him. Probably for the better they weren’t. Shutting the door softly behind his counterpart, the man led the way upstairs. Edison was sure to stay nearby as his dear friend got changed into something more appropriate for going out into town.

“He’s staying at my house, he’s laid up in one of my guest rooms.” Tom informed him, leaning his upper back against polished wooden walls.

“You let him stay at your place and you left him all alone there?” Ford sounded incredulous from inside his private quarters.

“He seemed to be in a good deal of pain- stomach ache. Found him wandering around my house earlier this morning. Couldn’t tell if he was lost or ..scouting the house for valuables.” Tom continued, regaling about the boy.

This earned yet another disbelieving response from Ford, swinging the door open the man tightened his tie, quick to protest his dear friends actions.

“Stomach ache? You of all people fell for something like that? _Tom_ -”

Edison cut him off, getting to the important part.

“-He’s a child, Ford. A very strange child.” Tom stressed the word ‘child’ with urgency. Tom didn’t know what to do with children if he was being brutally honest. Having been the youngest out of a decent number of kids, most of his siblings were already past the age of being ‘children’ when he was old enough to remember. Even with his nieces and nephews he was inexperienced, not having met or seen them very often due to his family having spread out.

“Strange doesn’t constitute for anything other than trouble.” Ford pointed out, reaching for polished black shoes.

A part of him knew he was right, but the kid was just so-

“Helpless, he’s helpless Henry. Trouble or not it’d be cruel to leave the kid like that.”

“It’s cruel to leave a kid in a house full of valuables?” Shutting the door behind him, Ford turned to Edison a suspecting eyebrow raised.

“Well, what if he needs to…” Edison began to trail off, realizing that Ford had a point. However he couldn’t shake the feeling that locking a possibly ill boy up in his room wasn’t a smart move. His trail of thought came to a grinding halt as they approached the vehicle, Ford’s pride and joy.

The model T was what put Ford’s name on people’s lips, advancing the livelihoods of the common man who could afford it. While it had not been out for nearly as long as Edison’s inventions, it was steadily dropping in price, allowing more people to go where they so pleased. It was in turn _the future._

While Edison might have questioned if Ford was really alright with how his profits may look from this steadily decreasing price, Ford was alright with it.

“...Needs to?” Ford echoed, giving Edison a look, as if asking to explain further.

“I don’t know,” Tom sputtered back, his lips pursed. “He just, seemed genuine.”

“That’s how they get ya Tommy.” Ford pointed out, as he got into the driver’s seat. Edison still hadn’t taken Ford up on his offer to teach him how to drive.

“I know but-”

Ford sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly at his dear good friends protests. The sputter of the engine being very much akin, to the way Edison attempted to ‘fight back.’ “-But nothing, the kids probably a load of trouble, why didn’t you offer ‘em up to the orphanage in the first place?”

_Good question._

“That was the plan. It’s still the plan, I’m just getting some medicine for him.” Edison protested as the car made its way towards the city.

“Alright, I suppose the other question I should be asking is why did you let him stay with you in the first place? He could have robbed you in the middle of the night. With that ear of yours, I’m not sure you’d have heard it.” Ford continued, poking a little fun at Tom’s hearing, or lack thereof.

Edison found he had no real answer to his question.

“Well it was late, and he didn’t seem to like the idea of going to the Orphanage, almost like he was afraid.”

The man had no clue why he didn’t just go to the orphanage. His eyes stared at the floorboards before looking back up to the soon to be busy roads of the city. He only shrugged, there was a sort of hesitance. An attachment to the kid? Maybe a little bit too far, but it had to be something like that. Some sort of infatuation. Infatuation born from a curiosity. He was an oddball child, there was no denying that. Malicious? Maybe, but it definitely didn’t look like it.

“Afraid? Of what, getting caught?” Ford asked, his serious grimace, twisting into a brief friendly gaze as the inventor gave a wave to a passerby who had recognized them.

“I asked him about his family, he wouldn’t give me a straight answer about anything. What he did tell me was strange to say the least.” Edison leaned back in his seat, he could almost feel a migraine coming on from just trying to make heads or tails out of the situation.

“He didn’t seem to know whether his parents were in New York, nor did he seem to care whether they were here or not. It sounds like he hasn’t even met his parents.” Edison summarized the bulk of what he managed to gleam from the conversation.

Taking his eyes off the road for a second, Ford gave him a questioning look.

“What do you mean he’s never met his parents?”

“I mean he never met his parents.” Edison wished he could elaborate but Tod didn’t give him a lot of information to work with.

“If that isn’t a red flag that the kids lying I don’t know what else is.” Ford responded curtly. “I still say you’re being taken for a ride with this boy. How old is he, anyway?”

“If I had to guess I’d say seven, maybe ten at the most.” Edison replied giving his best estimate. It wasn’t a thing he’d thought to ask. He knew he was young, certainly too small to be a teenager.

“We’re going to the doctor’s then? For his stomach?” Ford inquired as they grew closer to the intersection in question.

“Doctor’s office, yes. It’s _just_ a stomach ache, shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to get something.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already disappeared by the time you came back with something missing from your house.” Ford said as he pulled into the parking lot.

“I can replace missing things, I can’t explain why there’s a dead child in my possession.” Edison called back as he walked into the pharmacy. His hand sliding against the edge of the door, awaiting Fords catching up.

* * *

 

This was the end.

Tod’s stomach was killing him as he lay doubled over on the bed in pain. Clutching heated covers in hope of a relief that seemed as though it was never to come. The small pool of sweat forming under him not enough to distract from the endless stabbing pain in his abdomen. The agonizing throbbing kept him from moving, leaving him only with his mind. One thought after another, as he attempted to turn over his body into a hopefully more comfortable position.

What should he do now?

What _could_ he do next?

Was the man going to send information to the Facility on his whereabouts? Where did he go?

The growing feeling of nausea was worrying him, he could feel it in his throat. Ever since the man left, the house had been nerverackingly quiet once more. But this was different than the nighttime.

You aren’t supposed to remember being alone at night, and besides. He wasn’t really alone at night. The big man was still there with him. Only a few feet away. Now? _Who knew how far._

Then again it was an awfully big house as he’d seen earlier. Nevertheless it was the idea of what came next that scared him. The idea of being swept away, and nobody knowing. No witnesses to carry on any sort of legacy. Even Tesla’s wept over missing brethren, but if he died here… who was going to weep for him?

Did he even deserve a legacy? No clone was congratulated for stepping out of line, and he doubted the outside functioned any differently. He had done something unheard of yes, would the others speak about him in short lived rumors? Would they see him as brave or foolish?

* * *

 

_To fight for liberty you must give up some of yours._

A common phrase that was pushed into their heads the moment they opened their eyes. He remembered that day, when they were released from the nursery to join the rest of their kind. Young, naive Teslas huddled together, donning their new uniforms.

What were the older Teslas like? Would they all stay together? Would they get lost?

9802 clutched 9805’s hand firmly, afraid they’d lose one another in the flood of bodies that would no doubt come.

The screen before them was lit up, an important looking woman dressed in white was talking to them as a whole. Sitting behind a desk posed and collected, her words held great energy behind them as if she was speaking from her soul.

“To achieve progress, one must make sacrifices. We must always move forward to a brighter tomorrow, no matter how long it takes. We will get there but we can only get there together.” She continued.

9802 looked around the room, at the other Teslas in their little ‘coil’, as he’d overheard someone refer to them as a whole. It sounded nice, it sounded right. 9802 couldn’t fathom why the words Tesla and Coil sounded like they belonged together. He spotted several older boys in similar looking black uniforms. They looked different. Optimism would die out fast, and Tod would later learn that they were Jungs, and not friends of Teslas except in certain times and if you were lucky, although those two instances were not mutually exclusive.

Unlike them, the Jung’s outfits lacked the lightning shaped blue lines along their uniforms. The line of small, glowing blue circles along their backs. Every other one held a data pad in their hands, the others standing at the ready. All of them on guard. For what?

9802 never found out what, exactly, didn’t have the time to. The doors soon opened. For the first time they saw where the older Teslas lived and worked. Masses of them walking from one workbench to another, others at their generator stations.

Tod could still remember how in awe he felt, the collective wonder they felt as their gazed upon what seemed like a wonderland tailored just for them. So many wondrous machines, so much electricity.  The boys in black ushered them forth, giving them their official orders. They left soon afterwards, as the elder Tesla’s took over.

There was one in particular who seemed to stand taller than the rest of his peers despite being roughly the same height as his brothers. Every Tesla who could stopped what they were doing, and circled around to get a better look at the new batch. He couldn’t understand then why some of them were upset, others with traces of resentment on their faces while others were happy and eager to see them.

There was a loud cough, voices from every direction dying down as attention was turned to a small group of Tesla’s at the front of the room.

“Welcome, fellow Teslas.” The voice was sweet, and optimistic. 9082 never did learn if they faked it for the children’s sake, or if they really did believe there was hope for the younger generation. He personally still wanted to believe the former.

“You must have a lot of questions in store. Do not fret, we Teslas must always stick together. I am 7707, my brothers will soon become your brothers. Our families will soon become one. We will teach you everything we know soon. What we need to do and our ways. May your light glow long and bright, fellow Teslas.” 7707 announced with all the oomph and flair a Tesla could afford.

_May your light glow  long and bright._

_7707 passed a week later. “Short circuited.”_

 

* * *

 

Tod had sorely misjudged how much he’d miss his family back home. Everything had lost its charm and fallen into mundanity punctuated with sorrow as the older Teslas met the same fate they all did. The outside was overwhelming, nothing was the same. Almost all of what technology Tod _could_ find was so far removed from what he knew that he could barely make heads or tails of what some of them were even meant to do. The buildings, the people, it made his head spin. Tod was torn between wanting to explore and discover everything and being overwhelmed by the sheer difference in both worlds.

He wasn’t even sure he was going to get to experience it. He was going to die out here. No one would be there to witness the last of his light, glowing brighter than it ever had or ever would before it faded away as did he. His last breath would pass in solitude. Cold and alone in some place and time, just another body among who knew how many were outside. At least back home, he’d have friends by himself.

What a shame that he’d never see more of The Outside, of ‘New York’, after all he’d risked and planned. In the end, shouldn’t he try and see more while he had the chance? How best should he spend his final day? He couldn’t recall if agonizing stomach pains were indicative of any troubling conditions a Tesla could have. Surely, he didn’t have much time left. The bed was much more comfortable than the one he’d had back home. He wouldn’t have minded spending his finals hours there. It would be peaceful, draped in a soft blanket, gazing at the blue sky, fluffy white clouds passing by in clumps.  It pained him just how far away the big, wide world was, just out of his reach. It was right there, out the window.

Would it be better if he left? Certainly if the Facility were to find him then the sooner he left the better. What if the Big Man came back and found him trying to escape? How angry would he be?

Tod’s mind hesitated at that thought. He hadn’t acted as angry as he’d feared he might have had when he found him looking through the various rooms in his house. During the questioning, he seemed to grow frustrated, upset. Was he an interrogating agent? A sort of Freud? Then it’d be better to leave.

Still he wasn’t sure. He was never sure. Tesla’s weren’t exactly trained in decision making, but with such little time left it was about time he started making the decisions… right? The idea of dying in bed, was much less frightening than the possible outcome that came with being caught.

What was there to lose, even if he was caught? He was dying anyway. It’d be better for him. That’s all he should be thinking about, him.

_That’s all you thought about when-_

He cut himself off. It didn’t matter. Whatever happened was done, he just had to focus on the now. His happiness.

Tod made up his mind. He wanted to touch the green stuff covering the ground, he wanted to lay in the beautiful plants outside as he took his last breaths. This was going to be his ending. As far as endings went, this one would be rather nice compared to what he would have gotten. Fighting the pain, the boy threw off heavy covers. Jagged movements as he got up making his gut wrench further.

Small chills ran under his skin as his feet met with the floor. A nerve filled grip on the bedrooms side table helping him stay that way. Was the ground always this cold? A part of him hoped the green patches in the ground were the same way. Faint thumps against polished wooden floors with every step he took as audible signs of encouragement.

 _“_ You sure this is going to work out Tommy?”

The boy'sheart skipped a beat. Quickly pulling his hand away from the doorknob as if it were piping hot. A stranger's voice meant trouble. Could it be? He didn’t expect it all to happen so quickly, especially now of all times.

“Please, Ford, we’ll take him to the orphanage the moment he’s feeling right as rain.”

The big man's voice, Tod’s suspicions were right. Momentarily running the phrase through his head in confusion. ‘ _Right as rain_ ’. Whatever could that mean? What was rain and why was it ‘right’? Why was it important for it to-

No. He needed to focus. They were coming back, they were going to take him to ‘The Orphanage’ whatever that was. He knew where he was, he’d seen it the day before. It wasn’t that far from here. Could he make a run from it?

To where? He knew a small handful of places in New York- he didn’t even know where he was meant to get food if he did.

Should he make a run for it in this condition? Should he run back to bed and pretend he’d never left? That sharp stabbing pain from his stomach protested all the movement he was making, demanding he make a decision or stop.

He could hear their volume grow, footsteps becoming clearer with every second passed. Tod was running out of time, there was never enough time. Not enough to see New York, or feel the strange patches of green merely a few feet away. Head spinning, there weren’t exactly many options left.

Now or never, just like last time.

A light breeze brushed against Tods back, beckoning him to it’s source. The “window” was cracked open, perhaps just enough for him. The concept was foreign to him as windows were, but it was an opportunity. It had to be now. Stumbling his way towards the opposite end of the room, the fastest he could manage hands dug into the windows edge. Fingers touching the outside once more.  Unhindered Freedom greeted his fingertips with the cool air encouraging him to come join it out _there_.  The crack itself wasn’t too big, but neither was he. As he quickly overcame hesitance came with sticking his hand fully out the window.

No immediate combustion, so far so good. His heart was pounding, much like it had the day before.

Another arm, even better. He’d done it before and he was about to do it again. The thought of it coming true, of getting his wish a second time made his heart sing, his spirit soar. He was so close and he was tasting the sweet air itself.

Soon enough he had his entire head through, when a loud bark from the room made him flail his way back in. A rough hand grasping his arm quickly to pull him back further. For a moment, Tod thought his arm was going to come off.  
“Alright you little hooligan, drop the valuables. I told you, Tommy, this kid was no good.”

As he was turned around to face the voice, he came face to face not only with The Big Man, but with the person who’d grabbed him. Despite everything, Tod knew this man. It was the thin, young looking man he’d seen in the images, next to the primitive looking vehicle.

Tod swallowed hard, as it was time to face The Big Man. There no telling what he’d do but he knew that he had to answer for what’d come next.


	4. Unanswerable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, uh, Rusty's kind of taking 'a vacation' for who knows how long on this project so from now on until further notice it's all me and all my writing. I've got up to chapter 10 planned, with chapter 6 being the last planned at least semi between the two of us.

Every word was forming in his mouth at once. Tod’s brain rushing from excuse, to excuse, to the overwhelming wave of emotion that came with the stranger’s tight grip.  _ They were surely going to take him- _ not now. Constant circles of certain fear, hit him from every direction. Scrambling for a solution of any sort. Should he apologize for doing what he should never have even thought of in the first place to try and lessen the punishment that awaited him? 

 

_ You deserved better,  _ came the silent voice in the back of his mind. The very same that had driven him to such action. Tod was afraid to admit to its existence, whether if it was him getting carried away by silly, irrational thoughts, or if such a statement was a reflection of what he believed deep down. Even if he wasn’t actively aware of such traitorous ideas, they were still apart of him. Tainting the good, obedient boy he was supposed to be. Surely, such actions and thoughts would damage the already lackluster reputation Teslas had. 

* * *

 

_ ‘When one member misbehaves, we all suffer. Do you understand? We must work as a team and you, in your small communities make up this highly important team. Cooperation and competence is key. Do not forget.”  _  The crackle of age old audio filled an already packed room. Exhausted eyes attempting to stay open as the video droned on. 9082 shivered when the familiar voice of his dear friend pitched in. 

 

_ “Haven’t we seen this one before?” 9805 whispered to him, leaning close to avoid being overheard. There was  _ much shifting around from the other restless Teslas. Some actually bothered to pay attention while others, like themselves, were busy trying to occupy themselves without making it so obvious. 

 

_ 9082 could only shrug.  _ The majority of these videos seemed to blend together. Some had presentations based on their history and duty, some played out terrifying ‘what if’s.’ Generally it was just the supposed founder rambling in front of a camera. The Jungs and the Managers insisted they pay attention and stressed the importance of the messages they held. Perhaps the reason they continued to play and replay these videos were because the other classes had poorer memory than they did. Was it possible they’d forgotten how excellent a memory a Tesla could have?

 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d overlooked the Teslas as a whole. 

 

“Probably? She seems younger this time.” 9802 whispered back. The older Teslas had already gone through these videos. It was all ‘mandatory’, although it seemed the Jungs who were assigned to watch and ensure that the video was actually watched- or at least played- seemed equally bored, no matter how they tried to hide it. One in particular seemed to have started nodding off in the corner, while another pair had taken to playing rock, paper, scissors in another. Occasionally they’d cast a quick look around, checking to see if anyone had caught them. Had it not been for the light from the screen and the collective glow of the Teslas, it’d be easier to pretend they were not up to their own little activities in an effort to pass the time. 

 

“How much longer do you think this one goes for?” 9802 whispered, glancing back at the screen. As far as he knew, the older Teslas’ didn’t have to keep watching the videos, but sometimes they did as an excuse to take a break from the monotony of their days. 

 

“Maybe we’re halfway done with this one. When this is over do you wanna go play electro ball?” 9805 suggested hopefully to his friend. It was a sport exclusive to Teslas. If there were other classes with electricity powers they never met them, but 9802 wondered if they’d also play electro ball. 

 

“Do you think we can find a good spot? I don’t want to knock into someone’s work again like last time.” 9802 asked, cringing at the memory. 9791 had been rather furious with them, letting their ball of electricity hit his newest piece of work. He still remembered the talking to that Jungs gave to them about slacking off and being irresponsible. 

“If we leave early, maybe we can take one of the good spots, by the back.” 9805 suggested. 

 

9802’s gave him an eager grin, turning back to the screen. He only wished the video played faster so they could be over with it.

* * *

 

“Alright, keep your hands up and don’t make any funny movements.” Ford ordered as he started to pat the boy down. He wasn’t wearing much, so he didn’t expect it to take long, much to his relief.

 

“Is this really necessary, Henry?” Tom asked, looking concerned over his friend’s shoulder. 

 

“It won’t take more than a minute, Tom. Then we can find out if he’s a little thief or not. There’s been a number of pick pocketers waltzing around New York recently.” Ford reminded Edison as he quickly checked the boy for anything suspicious. The  off white cloth of his shirt felt strange, like a cool, insulating mesh like material. As expected, he felt nothing under his shirt except for the unnerving abundance of ribs he could feel. They felt...more prominent than they should, for someone his age. Ford found himself faltering if only slightly, as he was faced with this new knowledge.

 

Under fed or simply scrawny? Ford narrowed his eyes as he slowly moved down to pat down the boy’s pants. He hadn’t really expected to  _ find  _ anything in his shirt, it didn’t seem to have pockets of any sort but he couldn’t be too careful. It was when he started this second phase of his pat down that he discovered something more concerning. 

 

It’d been purely by accident, really. It’d been pure chance that he’d see it, or rather the lack of  _ it.  _ That the cloth of his shirt would get pushed up just enough to see what made Ford drop at least some of his pretenses about the boy. 

 

There was simply a white scar where his belly button should have been. His stomach was entirely flat, save for that one oddity. He would have almost missed it had he not been looking  _ at  _ it at that moment. His hands stopped all activity as he found himself staring at the oddity. 

 

“Tom, get a look at this.” He called out, moving aside so the older man could see. Kneeling down, Tom frowned at the patch of skin. 

 

“Henry, what exactly am I supposed to be seeing here?” He asked, scanning the frightened but obedient boy’s stomach. He frowned in confusion, trying to figure out what had Henry so worried. 

 

“A _ belly button _ , Tom. He lacks a belly button. It’s just, flat.” He answered, pointing to the small white scar where it should have been. “That’s all that’s left, where it should be.” 

 

Having seen what he’d been ushered over to see, Edison stood up, mulling over the facts in his head. The boy kept his hands up, wavering only slightly from exhaustion. Henry caught the blank, submissive expression on his face as he dare not move. There was also  the briefest undertone of worry on his face, vanishing only when their eyes met. The boy averted them, staring straight at the wall. 

 

Ford’s hands hesitated, hovering over the boy’s legs. His suspicion overrode his small yet growing newfound guilt and concern. Giving him a swift pat down his hands stopped at the feel of something cylindrical in his pant pocket. 

 

He frowned, concerned, as he wracked his mind, thinking of what he could possibly have stolen that might be anything remotely that shape or feel. 

 

“I want you to take whatever that is out of your pocket. Right now. Don’t try any funny business.” Henry ordered, taking a step back from the boy. 

 

Slowly, almost hesitant, the strange child reached into his pocket, emerging moments later with what appeared to be the handle of a tool of some sort, if Henry had to guess. Glancing down at it almost sadly, he held his hand out, offering the item to them. It was roughly five inches long, black with glowing blue lines along it’s side. It was mostly smooth, with part of the handle adorned with a section that was modified for a better grip, he ascertained after taking it from the boy and handling it. Aside from the fact that there appeared to be no actual tool on either end of the handle, Ford was puzzled. 

Until he found a button on the side. 

 

What it was for, Ford couldn’t wrap his mind around it’s purpose, intended or implied. It was when he pressed, the button did its purpose become far more clear, yet baffled the two men even further. 

 

The neck of a tool began to form from the handle, building itself in real time until a fully functional tool appeared where they had been nothing just before. 

 

“What is this? Where did you get it?” Ford asked, turning to study the boy sharpley. There was more to this story than Tom had told him before. 

 

“It’s...it’s a screwdriver.” He offered meekly, still not having moved from where Ford had dragged him away from the window. 

 

“I’ve never seen anything do  _ this _ before. Where did the tool part of it even come from? There was nothing there!” Ford exclaimed, waiving the screwdriver around. 

 

“W-well, it’s...it’s a multitool.” The boy explained meekly, slowly putting his arms down. He made no indication of moving from the spot Henry had made him stand.

 

“Where did you get this from? I can’t think of a place that might even make something like this.” 

 

“It’s from home.” He explained simply. 

 

“Might I ask where  _ home  _ is?” Ford continued, not letting Tod have the strange tool back. 

 

The boy’s expression seemed to light up at the question.

 

“I’m from Old York!” He piped up with confidence. Henry gave Edison a questioning look, only to receive a shrug in response.

 

“Where in York, then? Surely, you must have an address of some sort.” If nothing else, he was going to at least write to the boy’s parents to get an answer.

 

“Address?” Tod asked back, with wide questioning eyes. 

 

Growing frustrated, Henry responded, “Yes, address. It’s where you live specifically in a certain location. Do you not know what yours is?” It would be all too convenient for the boy to not give them a place they could trace him back to if this was all a ruse. 

 

“Why would you want it?” Tod asked quickly, his voice betraying the growing panic inside.

 

“We want to contact your parents. I think we need them to straighten  things out.” 

* * *

 

2-J-763-0 stood in front of the Supervisor, who was clearly displeased with the attendance report he’d sent in earlier that day. There had to an explanation for why or how that particular Tesla had gone unreported. It’d be too convenient for him to simply vanish into thin air.  There were measures he would be expected to take afterwards, an attempt to hunt him down. 

 

There was no doubt at least one of them would be punished for this absence. It all depended on if 1-T-9805-0 was found. The best scenario, the one 763 had to hope for was that the Tesla would be found and disciplined appropriately as was protocol. In the end he would only be reprimanded, but it was a far cry from what awaited him if they couldn’t. The size of the facility was the only resort 763 had left to cling too. 

 

It wasn’t fair. He was only doing his job. And yet, being punished for not doing his job well enough was also part of his job. 

 

“Explain your report from this morning. You failed to report the status of a Tesla.” He began formally. Sitting back in his chair, he scrolled through the datapad. 

 

They both knew it didn’t take that long to find the anomaly in the otherwise routine reports. Supervisor was simply biding his time, his reaction. 

 

Disappointment. 

 

Disgust. 

 

What good was a Jung who couldn’t keep the others in line? What good were their powers if not to control unruly clones? 

 

“I was taking count of the active Teslas in my sector. Several were reported as ‘dismissed’.” He paused, not willing to recount in person how he’d missed one.

 

“Where the dismissed taken care of?” Supervisor questioned, looking directly at 763 now. Their eyes met. As intimidated as he was, 763 found himself unable to fully break eye contact. 

 

“Yes, sir. As per protocol.” His voice began to waver, to weaken. What little beating around the bush had bought him mere minutes in avoiding the issue at hand. 

 

“About 1-T-9805-0.” He stated more than asked, dragging the main problem out to the forefront. No more hiding. With few tools to buy him time, 763 intended to use what he could.

 

“None of the other Teslas would talk about him. I think some of them might know, but they didn’t say.” 763 told him, hands fidgeting behind his back. It was a risky move, bringing blame for not looking closer, for not asking more questions. It would buy him more time. 

 

All he wanted, was more time. He needed it. 9805 had to be there, he just knew it. The very concept of him having gone  _ out there _ was too mind boggling, too heart stopping. Teslas were not made for fighting, at least not anymore. He could never  survive out there. 

* * *

  
  
  


Tod stammered, growing visibly more distressed at Ford’s words. 

 

“Can you tell us what home is like? What it looks like? Surely, you’ve been outside of it at least once.” Ford continued on with another question.

  
  
  


Tod was stumped. He had had enough information to give a  _ name  _ but now he was to describe it as well? This was only the second day out of The Facility. Tod was certain that simply describing the metal basement and mostly blank halls that he had seen weren’t going to satisfy the man. 

 

Not when he lived in a world that looked like this, so far removed from what he’d consider normal. 

 

Maybe there was still a way to pull this off.  _ He’d  _ been outside yesterday, hadn’t he? He’d seen some of it this morning as well. If he could construct something vague enough they would leave him alone, wouldn’t they? They had accepted that he was from ‘Old York’, a name he had lucked out on being real. 

 

“There….there’s a lot of trees.” He started, painting a picture in his head from what he’d learned. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his start. 

“There’s...there’s not a lot of people around, just...just us kids mostly. And...and there’s a lot of...a lot of grass.” He continued, growing more confident with each word. The image of small hills and vast swathes of grass and trees began to take shape. It felt almost like home.

 

Not home like The Facility or even The Basement, but  some missing piece that had been missing and he hadn’t even known. Mentally he reached for that missing piece, those details that seemed to elude him. 

 

As the details became more solid in his mind, Tod’s voice began to pick up eagerly. “There’s some hills here and there. Small ones and...and there’s...there’s a building.” 

 

“I would hope so, unless you mean to tell me yo live in the woods.” Ford pointed out, motioning for him to continue. 

 

“It’s….it’s um,” Tod focused hard on this little mental image, only to find himself stalling. He could almost see the inside of the house. 

 

Almost. 

 

“It’s….white. And...and um, there’s this strange building near by it’s uh, it’s also white.” Tod could feel himself being to tire from focusing on this idea, it began to slip his mind’s eye. Desperate to keep a few more small details he latched onto something that stuck out to him the most. 

 

“There’s...a strange symbol on top of one of them. It looks like a ‘t’.” He finished, as the image faded away. Tod felt tired from that imagining. He knew he’d never been there, he wasn’t sure where his brain came up with some of those ideas. He’d never seen a ‘hill’ before, he’d never seen any ‘white buildings’ like that either. 

  
  


Henry nodded, seemingly satisfied. It was a vague answer but more detailed than he’d expected. Not  _ what  _ he had expected answer wise. 

 

“You mean a church?” Ford supplied him, not quite convinced, although more persuaded. It seemed odd that he wouldn’t know what a church was, especially if he lived next to one. 

 

“Y..yeah.” Tod answered, hesitating. Ford frowned and hardened his gaze. If he hadn’t believed the boy was lying before, he certainly was now. He glanced over at Tom, to see his reaction. It was mixed but judging. 

 

The sooner Tom saw what he did, that Tod was bad news, the better. They could figure out how to get rid of him faster. 

 

“So your parents are of the Church?” Ford continued cooly, already aiming for another attack at this flimsy story.

 

“Yup.” There was a slight waver in his voice, as he tried to keep up appearances.

 

“Tell me, what kind of religion does your father preach?” 

 

Tod blinked up at him in even more confusion. Every question seemed to bring bigger hurdles for Tod to overcome. 

 

Religion. 

 

What  _ was  _ that?

* * *

 

The Supervisor folded his hands with eyes that stared right through him. 

 

“Now, tell me, J-763, how were the Teslas?” He inquired.

 

Silence filled the room. Somehow, he could feel the phantom stares from around the room, as if waiting for him to answer.

 

“They were upset, about one of their own being recently ‘dismissed’.” 763 answered.

 

“Did you question them about the whereabouts of 9802?” 

 

“I did, no one answered.” The Jung repeated, plainly. He’d made certain to state it but yet Supervisor didn’t seem pleased with this. 

 

“Did you press them for answers?” Supervisor asked pointedly, the threat of disappointment thinly hidden behind his words.

These questions were just protocol.

 

Protocol was meant to be safety, to be good. 763 tensed but dared not to show it. 

 

“I thought it better to attend to my other duties first.” He answered with the slightest hesitation, not wanting to tip off the growing insurmountable anxiety. 

 

“This was enough to convince you what you’ve gotten was enough for you to leave?”  With every passing moment, Supervisor was becoming more disappointed, more angry. 

 

In theory, he was right to be so. The Jung had failed his duty, yet he felt almost outraged about it. 

 

It shouldn’t be his place to be so much as  _ angry  _ towards a member of Management. He felt the right type of anger too, the type aimed at the Teslas.  Amists this maelstrom of wrongdoing, 763 couldn’t hide from the growing panic attack that it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face the full brunt of this mistake. 

* * *

 

Tod’s mind had skidded to a stop, unsure of how to answer this. He had managed to skirt by the other questions using what little he’d known and what little scraps of info they had given to him. This, like most of the other subjects, had been the first he’d heard of the topic. Tod had been fortunate enough to get this far. It would be pushing his already stretched thin luck, to hope for more lucky passes. 

 

Still, he’d hope anyway. 

 

Would it be too obvious for him to ask them in hopes of passing off their answer for his own? 

 

“Surely, you’d know your own religion if your  _ father  _ preaches it.” Ford’s eyes narrowed as his mouth grew thin. 

 

“Do you even know your parents names?” Ford asked once again, not even waiting for Tod to try and answer that question.

 

He was slipping. What little cover he’d managed for himself was falling away, leaving him exposed. 

 

He’d been a fool. How could he even have let himself think he would ever succeed in this idiotic, idealistic idea? A pressure grew in him, making his chest heavy, his throat sore and his eyes burn. 

 

All the euphoric excitement had long since left him, with only regret and fear to replace them. He had no choice but to confess.

 

At best he could expect a swift visit to the nearest Freud and well, Tod had only heard rumors of what happened to people who went to the Freuds. 

 

Tears and choked sobs spilled from him as he folded in on himself. 

 

How stupid.

 

How foolish. 

 

The facility knew better. The facility knew all. To think that he, a mere  _ Tesla,  _ a mere child could outsmart years of planning and carefully crafted clones of all powers and statuses? 

* * *

Henry took a step back, startled by the sudden crying. He could argue with himself that he was being weak, that he should have expected the boy to break out into tears.

 

There was something genuine, something heavy in those sobs and broken apologizes spilling from him that held off of his train of thought just moments before. Henry couldn’t totally ignore the phantom feelings of guilt. He knew it wasn’t his call to make what happened to him next, but he could at least give him a chance out there. Surely, Tom wasn’t set on actually  _ keeping  _ him. He must have come from a home, a family, heck even an orphanage. There was always somewhere else for him to go, one that didn’t endanger his best friend. 

 

There was no saying he wasn’t alone in on this either.

 

Henry took out his wallet, removing a few dollars from it and handing it to the boy. 

 

“Here. This should cover you for a little while at least.” Henry informed him, putting his wallet back in his pocket. 

 

The boy looked at the fresh dollar bills in his hand, a glimmer of thankfulness as he took it. 

 

To wipe his tears with.

 

And blow his nose with. 

 

Henry felt as if he’d just been slapped, dropping whatever pretense he may have had-not entirely- but it brought him to a screeching halt. 

 

Tom stepped in, taking the boy’s arm and leading him to the bed...while also disposing of Henry’s now ruined dollars into a nearby trash can. 

 

“Now, now, I think we all ought to take a step back and start over from the beginning. We only want to help you. No more lies or stories, just the facts.” Edison suggested comfortingly. 

 

“I’m….I lied to you.” The boy grew silent, as another great sob built up in him, escaping in great whole body shakes. 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

* * *

* * *

 

“I did what I was raised to do.” 763 shot back, losing his temper. He would regret it sooner or later but he didn’t care.  “I didn’t miss him on purpose.”

 

“You didn’t find him either. You Jungs have it incredibly easy. You aren’t obligated to help the cause we fight for the same way the others do. You still failed something so minute yet you won’t take responsibility for it.” Supervisor spat at him. 

 

“I’m telling the truth.” 763 stomped his foot angrily, starting to tear up. 

 

“Lying will get you nowhere. Don’t you forget your place, 2-J-763-0. You don’t have the same responsibilities as even the  _ Freuds  _ or the  _ Darwins  _ do. You don’t have a war to coordinate, thousands of clones to keep in check.” Supervisor rose slowly from his desk menacingly. 

 

“I do too-”

 

“Hardly. What simple, simple tasks we ask you do, you’re not even competent to perform. I think perhaps you need a reminder.” 

  
  



	5. New Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of Chapter 4, Rusty/T.T is not longer apart of this project. Also I'm going to be busy come next spring so I'm trying to get to at least chapter 6 before then.

Edison wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, being as gentle as he could allow in this confusion of feelings. Suspicion. Worry. Feeling both distant and drawn into this enigma of a child.

 

“My name is Thomas Edison. That man over there is my friend and associate, Henry Ford.” He began, stealing a glance between his friend and Tod. “What’s your name?”

 

“I’m….I’m T-0-D.” Tod answered between sniffs.

 

“I told you this morning, there’s no need to spell out your name, it’s such a simple one.” He chuckled lightly, attempting to ease the tension that had arisen...and spilled, between the three of them.

 

Henry’s mouth tightened, drawing itself thin like the strings of his beloved violins. Tod looked between the two and simply nodded timidly. There was no sign of recognition, no sense of awe that typically came with being in either of their presences. Edison was puzzled by this, although he supposed Tod did spend the night in his home already.

 

There was something missing, something Tom couldn’t put his finger on.

 

“Are you...important? I...I saw your face on the signs when I came here. I thought...I just thought…” Tod stammered before trailing off, his head lowering once again in shame.

 

That was it.

 

Tod didn’t know who they were. Being such a household name, a cultural icon at this point, it was nearly impossible to not know who Thomas Edison was. The Europeans knew of him- his introduction to Nikola  had been proof of that if he’d ever been in doubt. Ford, Tom could reckon that kids simply weren’t that interested in cars normally.

 

“Why of course I am, my boy. Surely, you’ve heard of the great Thomas Edison? The wizard of Menlo Park?” Tom asked in mock surprise, putting on a show. Ford watched him with raised eyebrows, still staying silent.

 

“Wizard?” Tod asked with wide eyes, his surprise a brief but much needed break from the past half an hour or so.

 

“Electricity is my magic, _I_ invented the light bulb for a matter of fact.” Edison informed him proudly.

“Electricity isn’t magic, it’s science.” Tod protested with some hesitation. He flinched, stealing a glance at Edison after a moment of stillness.

 

“Oh right you are, but you see, it’s such a wonderful technology, such a misunderstood science to the masses that it’s essentially magic. Such a life changing commodity and yet the world’s been using fire and matches up until this point.” Edison exclaimed, eyes wide with enthusiasm about the subject. He’d always loved light and electricity, it’d been so amazing to him. All the amazing things it could do, how it came from seemingly nowhere. Chemistry had held the key to this wide world of possibility that Edison was more than happy to take advantage of. It felt as if he’d found a small, kindred spirit in Tod on that matter.

 

Tod nodded eagerly, his tears slowing as he allowed himself to open up slowly.

 

“I….I like technology.” Tod offered, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

 

“You love science, then?” Edison inquired, momentarily forgetting his best friend was in the room at all.

 

“I’ve...been around it all my life.” Tod confessed, fidgeting with the hem of his undershirt.

 

“You mean with the tool?” Edison asked, interested piqued.

 

“Y….yes.” Tod answered conflicted.

 

“Where are you from, Tod?” Edison continued along with the questions. Now that Tod was a little more relaxed, he thought it’d be best to move on.

 

“I don’t know.” Came the answer after a long pause.

 

“You don’t know?” Ford repeated from his side of the bed, leaning against the wall. “You said you were from York.”

 

“I don’t know where York is, and I don’t know where ‘New York’ is either.” Tod confessed, slightly leaning into Edison’s half embrace. It was only now that Tom could feel just how bony this boy was. He could easily feel his ribs through his shirt. He could see how thin his wrists were. There were people who were naturally that thin, yes, but there was something unnerving about it. His sleeves had been pushed down before, but now that they were slightly rolled up he could-no, no  he’d seen them earlier when his arms were raised, but he’d been too preoccupied to notice it.

 

“Well, York is in England and New York is in America.” Edison stated simply. “They’re across the ocean from each other.”

 

“What’s an ocean?” Tod asked in genuine curiosity.

 

“It’s a big body of water. Very, very big. It’ll take-” Edison was cut off suddenly.

 

“-Weeks.” Tod uttered

 

“Er...yes.” He continued, glancing at Henry who exchanged a glance with him.

 

“I’ve never been to York..or England. What’s it like there?” Tod asked once again.

 

“Oh, well, I’ve never been there personally. I can show you a map later, if you’re curious.” Edison gestured. “So, how did you get to America? It sounds like you’re familiar with boats at least.” He supplied helpfully,

 

“A machine took me. That’s all I remember.” Tod glanced at the two of them, looking for a reaction.

 

“What kind of machine?”

 

“I...don’t remember. It happened so fast.” Tod told them haltingly. If the past half hour had been anything to go by, he was probably lying again.

 

Why?

 

Edison knit his eyebrows together. “Tod, I thought we were going to be truthful.” He reminded him sternly.

 

“I am telling you the truth. It _was_ a machine. It’s...hard to explain.” Tod stressed, pressing his hand against his stomach.

 

Ah, right.

 

“I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you, aren’t they?” Edison changed the subject, tackling one that he’d been stumped on from the beginning.

 

“I ran away.” Tod answered, not quite answering Edison’s question.

 

Ford had had enough.

 

“Tommy, I think I need to have a word with you. That boy needs his medicine too.” Ford jerked his head towards the door.

* * *

  


Tod lied down, having finally taken the medicine Edison had left for. They made sure to lock the windows as well as the door. Ford insisted they walk further down the hall, away from Tod. Satisfied with their distance, Ford spoke.

 

“Well, Tom? What do you intend to do with him?” Ford asked, arms folded.

 

“There’s only one solution here. He’s going to have to stay here until whoever’s probably looking for him finds him.” Edison answered. It made the most sense, he’d keep an eye on him and he’d be easier to find.

 

“Look, Tom, I can’t tell you what to do as a private citizen, but as a friend, I’m worried you’re getting in over your head. I know you like taking risks, but you have no idea what you’re getting into. We don’t know where….or _when_ Tod came from or who he’s running away from. There’s more to him that either of us can know.” Henry told him sternly, looking the older man in the eyes.

 

“Henry, I can’ just throw him out into the public. He’s a child.” Edison protested.

 

“I’m not saying you should throw him out in the street and let him fend for himself, Tom. I’m saying go back to your orphanage idea and let him stay there. Wash your hands of him.” Henry corrected him.

 

“If he gets adopted?” Tom pointed out, raising one of his bushy brows.

 

“Then he’s out of your hands.” Henry finished without a trace of worry. “He winds up with a family who’ll love him and whatever happens after that is none of your concern.” It was simple really.

 

“I suppose he would be, that it still doesn’t feel right.” Edison pointed out, resigned.

 

“You’re really stuck on keeping him around, aren’t you?” Ford closed his eyes, brows raised in disbelief.

 

“It’s only right.”

 

“So what now? Since you’re keeping him for the time being. I’d hazard a guess that you’re going to be in need of extra personal items for the boy.” Ford stepped away from the wall, putting an arm on Edison’s shoulder.

 

“I can’t say I didn’t try and stop you.” He added, a tired smile spread across his face.

 

“I believe i’ve been called stubborn before.” Edison smirked. It was true, even if he pretended he didn’t hear it and all the times he probably hadn’t. It was almost a badge of pride for him. That stubbornness had led him to success. It had also led him to failures that had forced him to turn tail with stinging defeat. Once Edison had latched onto an idea and felt that it had worked he seldom let go.

 

“Tod is going to need new clothes, he can’t go around looking like that. I’m surprised he hadn’t been noticed with that outfit of his.” Edison continued, trying to think of a solution.

 

“He is going to need more than one outfit to wear for however long he’s staying. So a trip to town, again.” Ford stated, starting down the hallway, towards the front door.

 

“Yes, but there’s a problem. We’re going to need to take Tod into the city with us. He can’t go  looking like that.” Edison lamented, having been turning over the how to this problem for the past few minutes.

 

Ford stopped, mid stride, turning around.

 

“We can’t simply buy clothes that looks like it might fit?” Ford inquired quizzically.

 

“For starters, I think it’d be best not to leave him alone in the house again. Not with him trying to climb out the window last time. We still don’t know why he was trying to leave that way. It’s a very long drop. He’d hurt himself.” Edison was determined not to have a seriously injured, if not dead child on his property. The news would be do his reputation poorly. For someone as much of a cultural icon as he, his image was just about everything. It was second only to his innovations, inventions and breakthroughs which most of his reputation hinged on in the first place.

 

“He’s going to need something to cover up the clothes he’s wearing right now if we’re taking him with us.” There were just so many factors to take into consideration and this was only his second day staying with him. First actual day, if he wasn’t counting last night as one.

 

“What do you propose then?” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“We can’t go into town without bringing the boy and we can’t bring the boy without getting him adequate clothes to make him blend in. The solution is simple- we’ll just _make_ him some clothes for the time being.” Edison looked at Ford in anticipation.

 

“Make clothes.” Henry repeated flatly.

 

“It just needs to make him blend in well enough.” Edison suggested simply.

 

“Alright, how do you suppose we do that, oh great wizard?” Ford asked playfully, the ghost of a grin on his face.

* * *

  
  


Tod was motionless in bed, the pain in his stomach had been exacerbated by all the movement and talking but he’d managed to push through it. Now that he was laying still, he could feel the pounding pain in his abdomen. The sight of clouds moving slowly and blissfully gave him company. He strained his ears to catch part of the conversation the men might be having. Instead, his own hum got in the way, only allowing him to catch bits and pieces of conversation.

 

What was he to do now? He didn’t even have his multi tool with him anymore. Nothing was really ‘theirs’ in the basement. Everything that they wore and used had belonged to another Tesla in the past. Rarely where they allowed to have new things and even rarer still where they allowed to have things that were uniquely theirs. The multi tool did not technically fall under the idea of unique ownership. Every multi tool had once been owned by another Tesla- yet among all things that were bestowed unto them, primarily ranging from clothes to beds and sleeping arrangements, one kept their multitool for their entire life. Not once, unless broken, in which case it almost counted as receiving something ‘new’, did a Tesla ever have their multi tool reassigned while they were alive.

 

There was something special about that. 

 

Memories were double edged swords. Reminding of the days where the life he’d been expected to live hadn’t yet exposed all it’s dark truths. A sharp repulsion of clear hindsight was married to a lonely, desperate desire for kinship. His mind wandered to the man he now knew as ‘Mr. Edison.’ The letters on the boards with his face suddenly made sense. He’d seemed to know a lot about electricity, of technology. It was comforting in a Tesla sort of way. Foolish, perhaps, but it was a warming sense of familiarity. With what little options Tod have in front of him, sticking by Mr. Edison seemed to be his best bet. He was nice enough and had been willing to let him stay. He’d even _fed_ him to boot.

 

Of course, Tod knew that he had little to say or do to effect the outcome of the matter.

  


Tod was grateful that he’d run into Mr. Edison instead of Mr. Ford. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d had been turned out as soon as the sun had risen if not simply dropped off elsewhere.  The latter was a sharp minded man too-or perhaps it was just his lies were too obvious. Another piece to ponder over.

 

Had Mr. Edison really not picked up all the things Mr. Ford had or was it out of curiosity that he hadn’t acted as hard on them? The worried looks and comments still played out in his head. He’d no idea what a belly button was or why they had been so shocked at the apparent lack of his own. Mentally, he shivered at how Mr. Ford had patted him down, the feelings of his hands on his sides had felt strange, almost alien. Hoisting himself off the bed, he pulled his jacket up off the floor and put it on. The almost plastic like material in his hands was something he never really wanted to have to feel again, but it was designed to keep their wearers warm in typical conditions. He felt slightly naked without it, laying there in just his fine mesh undershirt. There was nothing left for him to do but wait.

* * *

 

The two men pawed through Edison’s closet, picking through clothes he either could not wear again or simply chose not to. Something to sacrifice for a temporary outfit for a temporary trip.

 

Tom pulled out an old blue suit and pant combo, earning a chuckle from him.

 

“I haven’t seen this in decades.” He held it up against his body. It had fit him well in his earlier days. His younger, _slimmer_ days where he’d been so much poorer but with a head full of ideas and potential. He’d only just begun to embark on this wondrous journey. Oh, if he’d only had a clue of where he’d end up, all the ups and downs.

 

“Blue looks good on you, Tommy. Why’d you stop?” Henry asked, giving it a look over.

 

“Once I started getting more well known, I decided I needed a color that stood out more. Can’t quite wear this anymore. I don’t think it’d fit.” It’d been one of the first suits he ever bought and wore for himself as a young man. Stepping out into the world, fresh off from his time working the telegraphs. He had wanted to present himself properly, as an aspiring professional, an inventor!

 

“I think it brings out your eyes. You know, matches them and all.” Henry complimented, before turning back into the closet to dig for more clothes.

 

Tom felt his cheeks grow warm from the kind words, his mouth twitching at the beginnings of a smile.

 

“Maybe I _will_ bring blue back into my wardrobe.” Tom thought to himself out loud. Ford had always been fond of him, doting on him and his every action and thought. There were many people in public who had admired him. He was interviewed frequently, his words and ideas not only in products but in words and papers all across the country. He’d been well known enough that even Tesla had been recommended to him from all the way across-

 

-the ocean.

 

It seemed strange that Tod had not known what an ocean was, but he’d known how long it’d take to cross it.

 

A strange machine. Running away from home.

 

Edison found himself tossing the earlier conversation around in his head again. The child was surely an enigma, a series of contradictions. He’d already decided and was sticking to the idea that he would keep the child with him for now, but his mind was insistent on unwrapping the contents right then and there. No matter how hard he tried to focus back on the task at hand, it seemed his brain was insistent that he stop everything and continue with this line of thought. It was almost as bad as when he’d been struck with an idea, rushing out to tell the nearest team of inventors to make his vision come true.  It was like a non stop buzzing in his head that yearned for his attention.

 

He had all the time in the world tonight to think about it. Surely when Tod was asleep, he’d have hours to himself to mull this over properly.

 

_Focus, Thomas._

 

“What about these pants and uh, this shirt?” Henry asked, pulling out a dusty brown pair of pants and a faded undershirt.

 

“Hmm.” Tom moved to feel the material, thinking. Yes, they were certainly good enough for him to wear in town without looking like a disaster and they weren’t fancy enough for him to care about cutting up and sewing.

 

“Yes, this will do.” He said as he moved to grab some materials. He had learned how to mend his own clothes before, long ago. Not long after he’d moved out it had only been a matter of time before he’d rip something or find a tear. He wondered if even now, he still remembered.

 

After some guessing, the two men got to work in silence to hem the clothes.

 

“Henry, can I ask you something?” Tom asked, focusing in on making the shirt small enough for his guest.

 

“Sure, what is it, Tom?” Henry was still hunched over the pair of pants.

 

“What is it like, being a father?” Ford stopped, looking up at the other man. Edison continued, “I’ve always had ideas of what I’d do if I ever found myself in that position. If I’d ever had time to settle down and start a family. Turns out I was too busy for that.”

 

“Well, caring for another life isn’t something you should take lightly.” Ford started, going back to work. “That boy’s going to need you to keep him alive. Fed, clothed, warm and safe.”

 

“Seeing how you’ve had him for about a day and already taken care of at least three of those things, I’d say you have the basics down. There’s more to that though. You’ve gotta show him how the world works, how to be an adult. It’s not _easy._ ” Ford answered with that tone of determination he’d used not that long ago when he’d revealed his plan for his cars.

 

Edison sighed deeply at all this knowledge. It was all things he’d known and had an idea about. Perhaps it was the fact that he was going to be facing some version of this in the near future. Or perhaps it was because it wasn’t quite what he was looking for.

 

“I know that much, Ford.” Edison pointed out, stretching. Being hunched over looking at a tiny needle was not his idea of fun. The strain in his neck was becoming a bother.

 

“If you’re asking for step by step instructions on how to be a parent, I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Tom. Edsel’s only five years old and, well, everyone’s different. No telling how ‘Tod’ is going to turn out.” Ford responded apologetically.

 

“Besides, Tom, you’re a smart man. I’m sure you can figure it out.” The two fell silent once more before Ford spoke up again.

 

“Speaking of ‘Tod’, did you notice anything odd about his name? The way he spelled it?” It was Ford’s turn to ask questions.

 

“He spelled it out. All three letters of it.” Edison supplied, blinking at his friend in confusion.

 

“It’s not that, there were only _two_ letters in that name.” Ford argued. “I know your hearing gets in the way sometimes, but Tom, there were only two.”

 

“I assure you ‘T’ ‘O’ and ‘D’ are all letters, Ford.” Edison stressed, not sure why the topic was being harped on.

 

“It wasn’t an O, Tom. It was a zero.”

Edison looked up.

 

“Zero?” He echoed with this new information.

 

“T- Zero-D, that’s not a normal name in any circumstance.” Ford was looking cross, but continued stitching.

 

“This child keeps getting more mysterious every time we talk about him. I’m still keeping him here until further notice.” Edison understood why Ford had been more suspicious about Tod now.

 

“You always were a stubborn  man, weren’t you?” Ford asked exasperatedly.

 

“It’s part of business and science.” Edison responded dryly.

 

* * *

 

 

Tod hadn’t meant to doze off, naps were a rarity among Teslas. The sound of the door opening was enough to rouse him from his sleep. The sky was no longer as blue as it’d been earlier, but there was still daylight out.

 

“How are you feeling, my boy?” Edison asked cheerfully, bringing with him a set of clothes.

 

“My stomach doesn’t hurt very much anymore.” Tod replied, sitting up. There was still a dull throbbing but it was much less severe than it had been hours before.

 

“Good to hear. Put these on, Mr. Ford and I have been working to get you something suitable for our trip into town.” Edison told him, laying the clothes out on the bed. There seemed to be something...else behind his actions, his expressions. Tod couldn’t put a word to it but did was he was instructed.

 

“Where are we going?” Tod slowly got up and started changing shirts. Edison quickly excused himself and closed the door behind him.

 

“We’re going to get you new clothing in town. We can’t have you wearing the same outfit for who knows how long you’ll be staying.” Edison continued through the door.

 

“Is it a long way aways?” Tod was nearly done, not that there was much for him to change into or from. Simple pants and shirt. He’d never worn anything aside from the facility assigned clothes that were designed to fit their needs. The cloth felt a little scratchy and starchy. Different. New. Alien.

 

“We’ll be there maybe an hour. It may be a little boring but it’ll be over before you know it.”

Tod took a look at himself, he could hardly recognize the boy in the mirror. He didn’t look so uniform anymore. Not like the model Tesla was meant to. Now he looked more unique. Tod longed to stay and admire himself but they had places to go and things to do. He could always observe this strange change in himself later.

 

…..

 

Edison was almost shocked to see Tod with the new set of clothes. There was a sense of familiarity akin to when he’d first saw him yesterday. It was stronger now, a nagging feeling that he really ought to know whom he bore such a strong resemblance to.

 

“You look much different already, Tod. Come, we mustn’t keep Mr. Ford waiting.” He informed Tod charmingly, guiding him down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

The feel of the wind blowing through his hair and against his face was magical to Tod. All the sights and sounds held a different sort of meaning than the day before. The vehicle- car, as he’d quickly learned- drove past. He could sort of recognize the similar looking cars to the one Mr. Ford was driving down the street. Tod noticed Edison’s name popping up more often here and there around town. On big signs, on small signs it was almost like his eyes were drawn to his name tacked here and there. He still didn’t understand what half of the words meant but he understood them to be different. So many things with Edison’s name and face on them. Surely, he was living up to that ‘wizard’ title everyone gave him.

 

They eventually stopped in front of a store. ‘Tailor’ it said. Tod figured this was the clothes depository….store? Edison ushered him inside, while Ford sat in the car, waiting. A man who was not quite as old as Mr. Edison and a little older than Mr. Ford came up to them. He had graying hair and a pair of glasses upon his face.

 

“Well Hello, Mr. Edison. What brings you here to grace us with your presence today?” The man greeted Mr. Edison eagerly.

 

“I’m here to get this young man here some decent clothes. He’s new to the city and he hadn’t many clothes with him when he arrived. Surely, you can help us out here?” Edison seemed to know this man somehow. Had he come here often?

 

“We’ll see what we can do, shouldn’t take us long.” The owner’s eyes were curious but kind. “What’s your name? Seems a bit odd that you’d be without clothes, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m Tod.” He answered same as always. He was getting used to using this squashed code. “Um, well…”

 

“He was sent here on a short notice, Mr. Trent. He’s come to live with me for a short while until his proper guardians can sort things out and get him.” It wasn’t an entire lie, it was mostly the truth. Tod tensed up at this story, not needing to read between the lines very hard.

 

“I see. Come this way, Tod. So, Mr. Edison, what’s your relation with this young man, anyhow?” Mr. Trent brought dug around for a little bit, flitting from shelf to shelf, coming back with some shirts and pants. They weren’t very colorful and seemed to lack the augmentation nanotechnology but Tod expected it at this point.

 

“I’m his….god father. I’m friends with his parents. They’ve seemed fit that I over see their son’s well being for now.” Edison lied with a smile on his face.

 

The clothes were much the same as the ones he was currently wearing, albeint better fitting and ‘newer’. Less frayed around the edges in some areas and seemed more well put together.

 

“I see, I’m certain you’ll give the boy everything he needs to thrive under your care. Any plans on taking him to see the labs?” Mr. Trent suggested.

 

“I can’t leave him alone while I’m at work and he does seem to have an aptitude for technology and electricity. I might even have a future employee on my hands.” Edison told him whimsically.

 

“Can we really go there?” Tod asked, turning around after having tried on several outfits. He really had no opinion either way on what clothes he did and did not like. He did know that he liked the sound of what the lab might be like if his conversation with Mr. Edison had been any indication.

 

Had he just run away from a place that was covered in much more advanced technology and electricity? Yes.

 

Was he also a little homesick for the familiarities of home without what it entailed? Also yes.

 

Mr. Edison wasn’t likely to have any of what he dreaded if what he’d seen thus far was anything to go off of. It would be better to blend in this way, wouldn’t it? He was awfully curious to know just how advanced Mr. Edison’s electricity and machines could be. How primitive they were to what had been cutting edge to him.

 

“Of course. I can give you a tour and have the secretary watch you while everyone else is busy with their duties. I can trust you’ll stay out of trouble?” Edison inquired with a tilt of his head.

 

“Yes, sir. I’d like that. I’ll be good, I promise.” Tod pleaded truthfully.

 

“Then it’ll be so.” Mr. Edison promised him. “These clothes look fitting on you, but I think you’re missing something special.” Edison walked past both the boy and the man. Mr. Trent was asking Tod how the clothes fit him, blocking Tod’s view.

 

“Here we go, a nice red bowtie to tie it all up together. A finishing piece.” Edison tied the cloth around Tod’s neck, deft fingers twisting it into a nice little bow, just like his own. It was smaller and less poofy than Mr. Edisons.

 

Time didn’t feel real when Tod looked at himself in the mirror again. If he’d thought he’d looked more ‘unique’ more ‘human’ than before, he fit right in with the rest of the world. It was just a change of clothes, new cloth. Yet it the effect was profound. Before him wasn’t a clone who had lived and worked by an unchangeable set of rules and duties. Instead there was a ‘normal’ boy who looked like any other person out here in ‘New York’ but at the same time ‘himself’. He was still just a Tesla who was where he shouldn’t be...so why did this feel...almost right? Like he’d been missing something so simple yet so meaningful?  

 

“I think he likes it.” Mr. Trent noted proudly.

 

“I believe he does.” Mr. Edison agreed.

 

 

* * *

 

The 760 Group of Jungs were turning in for the ‘night’. There were ten beds and yet not all of them were full. They had been missing members for a while now but they knew when they had been missing one more than normal. The lights were comfortably dim for them. Perhaps too dim for most others to find acceptable but it was for their comfort. It would do them no good to wear their visors around all day even in their private quarters. For the most part they were in uniform order, their assigned clothes and equipment put away neatly enough for them to tell whose was whose. The Jungs were afforded few personal effects but these were largely hidden from most others who were not also Jungs. These they kept hidden under pillows and beds and in whatever nooks and crannies they could find to stash them.

 

2-J-767 was preparing to go to sleep. He’d done his duties for now and could relax if he so chose. 764 and 765 were hanging out on the same bunk, with the lower numbered boy talking from the top. 768 was just getting out of the personal bathroom all Jungs had- from what they’d been told, it was a privilege afforded to them as Jungs. It was noticeably emptier with their self elected head Jung, 763 had failed to return from his rounds. As head boy of their little family-or as they’d dubbed themselves, a subconscious of Jungs- he did have more responsibilities. Still though, it didn’t feel right for him to be this late.

 

“Has 763 come back yet? I need to tell him something.” 769 asked, as he walked in through the door. His uniform was no longer neat, a habit of his. Zipper pulled down part way, showing the mesh undershirt beneath. It was all the same for every class, yet simply leaving it open like that considered lazy by some and laid back by others. Jungs were not supposed to be seen as either of those.

 

“No, and fix your jacket. You’re going to give this subconscious a bad reputation.” 767 retorted curtly before trying to settle back into bed.

 

“He’s been gone all day, he ought to be back by now. I wonder what’s keeping him. Do you suppose he’s in a meeting? Getting us more rations?” 769 asked hopefully. The Jungs had been given their rations that were meant to last them through this hunger period. There were new clones being released from their nurseries, meaning there was a strain on their food supply for now.

 

“You know that’s not how it ever works.” 767 snapped, agitated from not having much to eat the past two days. “Besides, we’re due to get new rations tomorrow. It’s the Kepler’s turn to eat today and the Freud’s turn yesterday.”

 

“I know that but I can dream, can’t I?” 769 glared, keeping his datapad close to his person.

 

“Speaking of dreams, why don’t you just dream walk over to him tonight and ask him himself?” 765 piped up sounding more chipper than the rest of them.

 

767 groaned, having an inkling of why his brother was sounding so lively compared to the rest of them.

 

“Either you’ve been getting better at keeping your meals hidden and edible or you’ve been taking bribes.” He pointed out accusingly. Partially out of jealousy- who wouldn’t want more food when you’re officially fed every three days during this time?- and partially out of disbelief. They were meant to make sure the facility ran in an orderly fashion, that nothing went wrong and rules were followed. What kind of examples would they be showing if they were to just bow during tough times? This certainly was not what the Managers and Supervisors had put time and carefully catered efforts into training them for.

 

“A Tesla was offering his meals for some free time. They get fed every other day anyway. If he wants to go hungry in my place why shouldn’t I let him?” 765 answered defensively.

 

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance for more food if you had it.” 765 gave him a knowing look, daring 767 to contradict him.

 

“We have jobs to do, we can’t do them if we’re breaking the rules we’re meant to enforce.” 767 pushed back agitated. He could not deny that food weighed heavily in his mind, especially now. The pangs in his stomach and the shaking he could not entirely control made them all targets to those who wanted to skirt the very rules they were meant to uphold.

 

“We can’t do them if we’re hungry either. We deserve a break, 67, everyone’s tired and hungry and upset. It’s that time of the year.” 765 pleaded with his higher numbered partner.

 

“Do not call me 67, we are not Teslas.” 767 scolded sharply.

 

The door opened once more, although it were not the Jung they were hoping to see.

It was an older boy from an earlier batch of Jungs. He seemed cross with a frown on his face.

 

“This is the 760 unit of Jungs, isn’t it?” The teen inquired, holding his data pad to check it.

  
“We are, yes. What is it?” 768 responded, letting his hair dry.

 

“I’ve been told you need to rearrange your responsibilities. Your leader, 763, has been put in detention for now.” The older Jung handed the data pad to them to see for themselves.

 

“Wait, why?” 767 asked, almost bumping his head on the top of the bed above him.

 

“The details are not for you to know. Just get your responsibilities reorganized by tomorrow.” He answered sharply, avoiding 767’s gaze. 767 had a feeling that this older Jung had an idea if not full out knew.

 

“What do you know then? You must have more of an idea.” 767 said matter of factly. There was a chance he was wrong but he trusted his gut instinct on being right.

 

The older Jung hardened his face, turning to give 767 his full attention now.

 

“That is not for you to know. You’re a rather Intuitive one aren’t you?” He asked almost beratingly.

 

“I’d say I’m more of a Perceptive  type really.” 767 answered back, knowing full well he was toeing the line between conversation and disrespect.

 

“Yes, well, you’d best be aiming that perception at someone else and not your superiors. Or would you rather go meet your head Jung right now? You can ask him why he’s not spending the night here.”

 

“Duly noted.” 767 bowed his head. He had a feeling that the other Jung truly meant his threat.

 

“Good, now have your responsibilities sorted out and sent to me and your superior by morning or I may have to make another visit. I’ve got my own responsibilities to attend to.” With that the door to the 760’s room was shut, leaving the boys in solemn quietness.

 


End file.
